The Pensieve
by WildeAquarius
Summary: "It is called a Pensieve. I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind." Lupin didn't have much to leave, but he did have something he knew Harry would appreciate.
1. Chapter 1

The Pensieve

Too many funerals. There had been too many funerals, two or three a day for the last week. He'd done what he could, be it consoling the grieving, as he'd done at Fred's funeral, or quietly standing unobtrusively in the back, as he had at Lavender Brown's service. But Harry Potter felt obligated to attend every one of them. Or, nearly every one of them. He'd heard of the funerals of the fallen Death Eaters, but had chosen to abstain from those of the people who had killed his friends.

Voldemort had even had a kind of funeral, and well attended too. By the succession of arrivals and immediate departures, Harry had guessed most had shown up just to confirm once and for all that the Dark Lord, was indeed, dead. He'd been reminded of the inferi filled lake inside the cave, as Voldemort's body had been placed in a small boat and set out on to the small lake behind Malfoy Manor and set a flame. It was the only place for it, as all cemeteries in the magical world had refused his internment. And, as Kingsley had noted, it was somehow fitting punishment for the Malfoys; knowing that the ashes of their fallen lord covered the bottom of their family lake. At Narcissca's instance, the body of her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange had been loaded into the boat next to her lord. Weather it was because Bella had been likewise refused by the cemeteries, or because Narcissa knew that to go through that final act at her Masters side was what Bella would have wanted, Harry neither knew, nor cared.

No words had been spoken at the lakeside as the boat drifted slowly out into the middle of the lake. Kingsley had merely lifted his wand and conjured a ball of fire that flew contrastingly through the sky of the soft spring evening, igniting the small boat. Some attendees began to drift off as the wood began to pop and splinter, flames engulfing the body. Lucius left as the flames grew higher than the tree line, but Harry, Ron, Hermione and Kingsley stood watching until the last ember sputtered feebly out in the water. Narcissa was standing alone on the shore as they turned to leave.

Severus Snape's funeral had been sparsely attended. This angered Harry, now that he knew the truth of the Potion Masters life, but it probably would have suited Snape just fine, Harry admitted to himself. With the thoughts Snape's memories still fresh in his mind, Harry had insisted Snape be buried in the shady grove underneath the trees in Spinners End. It was, Harry had felt, where Professor Snape had been the happiest. When the spoken regrets were over, Minerva McGonagall's being the most heartfelt, and people Apparated away, Harry was left alone at the grave of the man who had made his life so impossible and possible at the same time. From inside his robe pocket, he'd pulled out one flower, rested it against the simple headstone and Apparated back to the Burrow, leaving the single lily behind.

Colin Creevey's funeral had been, perhaps, the most uncomfortable of them so far. Colin's parents, both muggles and until six years ago completely unaware of the magical world, had been devastated by the loss of their son in a war they did not understand. Dennis Creevey had stood motionless in his mothers clutching embrace as Harry had extended his condolences, and, on Hermione's advice, recounted a somewhat pleasant memory of Colin in the Gryffindor common room from years ago. Mr. and Mrs. Creevey had stared blankly, almost through him as Harry had spoken, his practiced story falling away and trailing feebly out. Dennis had then dislodged himself from his mothers grip and offered his hand to Harry, saying only, "It's not your fault."

But today, Harry thought as he looked at his reflection in the mirror over the chest of drawers in the silver-grey silk covered bedroom and straightened his tie; today would be the hardest for him.

In the week since the battle, and moving back to Grimmauld Place, Kreacher had taken task in hand. Dusting, and washing carpets and drapes. He had also, at Harry's request, redone the walls in Sirius' bedroom. Unable to remove the Permanent Sticking Charm on the muggle posters of bikini clad women, he'd hidden them instead. Recovering the bedroom walls in the same silver-grey silk as the Blacks had had installed. But Kreacher, in a burst ofuncharacteristic sentiment, had left one small photograph showing, and it was small movement off to his right that came from this photo that caught Harry's eye, and he walked over to it.

Four young boys gazed back at him, laughing. Harry smiled faintly at the images of his father and god father, ignored the smallest of the boys, and turned his attention fully to the boy on James' left. Remus Lupin, at about fifteen, Harry guessed, full of admiration of his friends, joy at being accepted and included. He was the one Harry had known the longest. The first of his fathers friends to come into Harry's life, if you didn't count Wormtail posing as Scabbers, and Harry choose not to, and had remained there, a constant source of strength and reminder of family. And now he was dead.

A knock on the door intruded into Harry's thoughts, and Kreacher's voice spoke softly from the hallway. "Master Harry?"

"Come on in Kreacher," Harry answered, moving over to the bed and picking up a shoe.

The door opened, and Kreacher walked in, a clean dish towel slung across his hips and the locket bouncing against his chest. Harry's freshly washed and pressed dress robes laid across his out stretched arms. "Master Harry should be leaving if he wants to arrive on time."

"Thanks Kreacher," Harry slipped on his other shoe, tied it tightly then took the offered dress robes and slipped into them. Kreacher hopped up onto the bed and began to swipe the back of the robes with a lint brush.

"Mistress Nymphadora was always kind to Kreacher," the elf said out of the blue.

Harry turned, startled. "Kreacher, would you like to go to the service with me?"

Kreacher shook his head slowly. "No, thank you Master Harry. Kreacher has his own service to attend this afternoon."

Harry's brow furrowed. The Hogwarts house elves had joined the battle in the very end, there had been wounds, yes, but as far as Harry knew, none had died during battle, and none of the wounds were life threatening. "Who's service, Kreacher?"

Kreacher sighed deeply. "Dobby's service, Master Harry. The house elves are having our own funeral for him."

Harry swallowed hard against the lump of tears that had formed in his throat. He nodded, not trusting his voice, and when Kreacher again lifted the lint brush up, Harry gently pushed his hand back down. The old house elf understood and climbed down from the bed, left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

.

All the Auror's were there, Harry noted. Kingsley had introduced him a few days ago, when Harry had gone to the Ministry and had ruthlessly argued Snape's case, defending his former professor until Kingsley had understood the entire saga and was satisfied that Severus Snape had indeed, been acting on Albus Dumbledore's orders through out.

Luna and Hermione cooed over baby Teddy, swaddled in a blue blanket and cradled in his grandmother's arms. Andromeda Tonks sat straight backed and upright in one of the chairs in the front row, staring at one of the two caskets. She graciously accepted all condolences, but, Harry noticed, when there was no one directly in front of her, when Andromeda thought all attention was elsewhere, she sagged a bit under the weight of her grief. Augusta Longbottom sat rigidly at her side, the stuffed vulture on her hat bobbed with the slightest movement, and a mental picture of the boggart Snape emerging from the wardrobe made Harry smile. And then his eyes welled up remembering that the man who had given him the memory was now lying in one of the caskets.

Teddy squirmed a bit and began to fuss; Molly Weasley rushed up and offered to relive Andromeda for a while, and Andromeda reluctantly handed him over. Molly cooed to Teddy, holding him against her shoulder and taking off to the side where his fussing would not disturb the service. The blanket slipped down off of Teddy's head, revealing a patch of thick turquoise hair, making Harry smile with memory. Arthur joined them a moment later.

Neville and Ron stood off to one side, quietly chatting with Auror's Proudfoot and Savage, likely, Harry thought, getting an idea of what an Auror career held in store for them. Charlie Weasley stood grouped with his brothers and sister-in-law, and dabbed at his eyes. This confused Harry for a moment, until he remembered that Tonks and Charlie had been classmates at Hogwarts, and, apparently good friends. George Weasley stood close enough to his brothers as to be a part of the group, but just enough away so that he did not have to participate in the conversation. Many of Harry's classmates were in attendance too. Remus Lupin had been a well liked professor at Hogwarts and many of his former students had shown up to say a final goodbye.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix, those who had survived the battle, and were not still in St. Mungo's were in attendance as well, speaking to each other in hushed voices, no doubt sharing stories of Remus and Tonks. Hagrid stood in the back, blowing his nose thickly into a bandanna.

Minerva McGonagall sat down next to Andromeda and took her hand, patting it gently. Andromeda inclined her head just a bit and spoke quietly to the Headmistress for a few moments before Kingsley, wearing impressive dress robes, walked up to the women and suggested it might be time for the service to begin.

Having received Andromeda's consent, Kingsley began to move about the crowd, shepherding people into seats. Ginny looped her arm through Harry's and together they joined the small group of their friends in the seats Hermione had saved for them.

It was the same small tufty-haired wizard who had presided over Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding, and so many of the funerals this week. Harry wondered if it had been he who had presided over Tonks and Lupin's wedding ceremony, just about a year ago. The wizard spoke of bravery and noble hearts, unselfish deeds for the good of wizard kind. Andromeda's head bowed, and her shoulders shook uncontrollably as she sobbed quietly into a handkerchief. Augusta and Minerva on either side of Andromeda rubbed the crying woman's back.

As the small wizard concluded the service, there was a moment of silence; only Teddy's soft fussing and the quiet weeping of several people in attendance could be heard. After a moment, Harry, all the Weasley men, Neville, Proudfoot and Savage stood and walked up to the dais, standing on either side of both caskets. Kingsley stood at the top of the caskets, and at his signal, all the pallbearers brandished their wands as one. The caskets rose a foot into the air and glided gracefully into the two graves that had already been carved out from the ground. Kingsley, his arms outstretched to his sides, levitated the piles of earth and covered the caskets.

Harry stood off to the side, watching the sun set, and waiting for the crowd to disperse. Kingsley and the two Auror's had already left, headed back for the Ministry and the seemingly insurmountable amount of work left to be done. Professor McGonagall too had Apparated back to Hogwarts, taking Hagrid as a sidealong, as there was just as much work to be done at the school.

Ginny came up quietly behind Harry and slipped her arm around his waist. "You ok?" she asked, looking up at him and searching his eyes.

Harry shook his head. "Not really, no."

She smiled wanly at him and tightened her arm around him. "It's almost over. Only a few more funerals left." Harry nodded in agreement, and Ginny, knowing anything more she might say would be of little comfort, said, "Come to the Burrow for dinner. Mum said she's making treacle tart." She reached up and ran her fingers though his hair, as much of a misguided attempt to flatten it, as it was just to offer some comfort to him.

Harry smiled a little at the thought, not of the treacle tart, but of being surrounded by a loving family at the end of a terrible day. Ginny, satisfied with this, kissed him on the cheek and headed off toward her waiting family.

Andromeda was still sitting in her chair, the baby back in her arms, staring at the mound of earth her daughter now lay under. Harry felt his chest tighten and a lump rise in his throat. He walked over to her and stood quietly for a moment, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts.

"Good of you to come, Harry." Andromeda said with out looking at him. Harry sat down in the seat next to her and offered Teddy's outstretched fists one finger. Teddy grabbed it and held on with strength Harry had not expected, and he gave a short burst of surprised laughter. Andromeda glanced down to her grandson in time to see the baby's hair morph into a bright pink. "Just like his mother," she whispered and looked to Harry. "He likes you. Nymphadora's hair used to turn that exact shade when she was happy."

Harry didn't know what to say. The words, 'I'm sorry' seemed immensely inadequate, not only for the situation, but for what Harry was feeling as well. "Remus was a good man," Andromeda relieved Harry of the burden of thinking of something to say. "I can not say I was happy with my daughters choice at first, but," she sighed and looked again to Teddy "their union gave me…" she paused, "this wonderful boy," she finished and looked slightly ashamed of herself. Harry wondered if she was unable to say Teddy's name so soon after her husband, the Ted the baby was named for, had died. "I have something for you," she adjusted Teddy's weight so he lay comfortably against only her right arm, and opened her pocketbook with her left.

What could she have, Harry wondered, and then thought perhaps a photograph of Remus and Tonks, or maybe Remus had kept something of James' that Andromeda was now returning. Harry's imaginative rambling was cut short when Andromeda's hand emerged from the pocketbook, seemingly holding nothing. It wasn't until she turned her wrist and opened her fingers that Harry realized she was handing him a small glass bottle with shimmering silvery thread that Harry immediately recognized as memory. "Remus left this for you. Before he left that night," she paused with the thought of the awful evening "he asked that if he didn't return, that I make sure you got this."

.

**a/n: TBC Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

The Pensieve

The glass bottle nearly burned a hole through Harry's shirt pocket all though dinner with the Weasley's. Ginny noticed his silence and did her best to cajole him into a better mood. The entire family was subdued, with the weight of the day, and the sorely felt absence of Fred. After the meal they gathered in the comfortable living room, Harry settled himself in front of the cold fireplace, thinking of Lupin staring into the flames on Christmas Eve a year and a half ago. Dumbledore was still alive then. And Harry had had no idea it was possible to rip a soul into pieces and store them away like a deranged squirrel.

Hermione and Ron had settled into the sofa, Hermione looking very warm and content with Ron's arm wrapped around her shoulder and Cookshanks curled up in her lap. She'd been staying with the Weasleys as she made plans to go to Australia and find her parents, as soon as the funerals were done. Bill and Fleur excused themselves and had left for Shell Cottage, their own home, while George had gone quietly up to bed as soon as the meal was over. Percy too, had retired to his bedroom, mumbling something about a report for Kingsley.

Charlie and Arthur stood in one corner, a glass of firewhiskey in each hand, and chatting quietly. Charlie had been talking about giving up his job in Romania and moving back home. In a quiet moment before dinner, Ron had suggested to Harry and Hermione that Charlie was trying to fill the void of Fred. Arthur was fiercely against this move, knowing that nothing but time could salve the wound of Fred's death, and that Charlie would be happier doing what he loved. Molly had kept quiet on Charlie's idea, not offering her opinion. She now sat in a thread bare, but extremely cozy arm chair kitting, by hand, not by magic. Every few minutes her eyes rose to the ceiling and she sighed with concern.

Ginny finished in the kitchen and came out, settling into the chair next to Harry, watching him for a few moments and then shared a glance with Hermione. Ginny leaned over, her head very near Harry's. "There's something new bothering you."

Harry blinked and looked at her. "Sorry?"

"Your mood. This isn't due to the funeral, there's something new on your mind."

Harry glanced away. He wanted to tell her, wanted to share everything with her, but this, the bottle and whatever memory it contained, he thought he might just like to keep all for himself. At least until he knew what it contained. A very small part of him worried that Lupins memory would be a telling off of Harry for the row they had in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

Harry found Ginny still staring at him, and shook his head to answer to her question. "It's just tiredness. It's been a long…" Day? Week? Year. He let the sentence trail off unfinished.

Ginny nodded, knowing it wasn't the whole truth, but accepting it. "All right then."

"Do you want to stay over, Harry?" Molly had waited for a break in her daughters' whispered conversation. "We can put the camp bed back in Ron's room. Maybe you shouldn't be alone tonight." Ginny grinned over to Harry, eager for a few extra hours to spend with him, but her grin wilted as Harry shook his head and stood.

"Thanks Mrs Weasley, but I think I'll go back to Grimmauld Place actually. Kreacher'll be there," he added, seeing the worried look flick over Molly's face. "He's changed, Mrs. Weasley," Harry quickly defended the house elf's reputation as the worry on Molly's face changed to annoyance. "He even complemented Tonks this morning." Ginny and Molly both looked stunned at the idea of Kreacher saying anything nice, but Ron and Hermione, who had not only witnessed Kreachers transformation, but had played a part in it, nodded understandingly.

Ginny stood and took Harry's hand in hers, "I'll walk you out."

.

It was nearly an hour later when Harry Apparated into the square across the road from Grimmauld Place. He could have landed directly on the door step, but he wasn't up to putting that much effort into the Apparition. The moon hung low in the sky, and as Harry turned his face toward it, he could have sworn one of the brightest stars twinkled at him. Pulling the glass bottle from his pocket he stared at it for a moment. The silvery strands swirled and glowed mysterious and inviting in the moonlight.

As he closed the front door behind him, Harry waited a moment, as Mad-Eye Moody's voice came out of the dark hall "Severus Snape?" A whosh of cold air washed over him, and his tongue curled up as the dusty form of Albus Dumbledore flew at him, and a moment later his tongue loosened.

"I didn't kill you," Harry told the dust ghost tiredly and quickly held his breath as the figure exploded. "I'll have to remember to ask someone how to get rid of that." Harry muttered to himself, and thought about just who had magic powerful enough to undo one of Moody's spells.

"Kreacher!" he called out, walking past the portrait of Sirius' mother. She mumbled sleepily behind the heavy drapes, but did not begin to scream, thanks to a sleeping charm he had placed on her his third day back.

"Welcome home Master Harry, Kreacher is in the kitchen," came the house elf's voice.

Kreacher was indeed in the kitchen. Harry sat heavily down at the kitchen table in the seat he always thought of as Sirius', and the old elf set a mug of steaming tea in front of him. "Dinner, Master Harry?" Kreacher asked.

"No thanks Kreacher, I ate with the Weasley's," and he couldn't help but notice Kreacher seemed grateful that no dinner need be prepared. "Have a seat Kreacher; tell me about Dobby's service."

Kreacher did, climbing up into the chair and leaned tiredly back. "Very sad, Master Harry, very sad. Winky cried and cried."

"How is Winky?" Harry asked, concerned about the small house elf.

Kreacher's face brightened. "She is well; she has given up the ale, and has taken to her duties as a proper Hogwarts house elf. The other house elves have her cleaning the second floor girl's bathroom." Kreacher gave Harry a knowing look. "Myrtle the moaning ghost, the cleaning takes all night." His face fell a bit. "Winky says she misses Dobby, sir."

That reminder of Dobby led Kreacher back to his telling Harry of the memorial service. All the Hogwarts house elves had brought an article of clothing with them, laying it in turn on Dobby's headstone. Harry had the brief flash of a picture of Dobby's grave, and a small smile crossed his face as he wondered if that patch in Bill and Fleur's garden now looked like a rummage sale.

The service, Kreacher explained, would not translate well, but there were songs of grief and remembrance, including a new ode, written by a house elf Kreacher called Amorin, about Dobby's heroism and sacrifice. The thought of Dobby's being sung about for generations to come made Harry smile sadly.

Kreacher's recounting ended about the same time as Harry's second cup of tea. He had risen from the wooden table about the time Kreacher was telling him about the part of the service called the Prestige of the Fortunes, a complicated ritual that Harry only half understood as he brought back a fresh mug of tea for himself, and a mug for Kreacher as well.

Harry told Kreacher to leave the washing up for the morning, an idea that Kreacher found both foreign and welcome, and the old elf headed for his comfortable nest of blankets underneath the pipes and Harry headed upstairs, taking the small glass bottle from his pocket once again, staring at it as the stairs creaked beneath his feet.

.

The note to Professor McGonagall was the first thing on his mind the next morning. He dashed off a quick request to set an appointment where he could use the Pensive in her office for awhile, at her convince, of course. The glass bottle of Lupin's memories sat on his bedside table, next to the lint brush Kreacher had used the day before, the strands of silver swirling intriguingly. Harry snatched it up and slipped it once again into his shirt pocket.

The warm, buttery aroma of scones wafted to him as he made his way to the kitchen and found Kreacher pulling a fresh batch from the oven. The previous evening's mugs were already dry in the drain board, and Harry had the idea that Kreacher had washed them first thing, before starting on breakfast. As he ate, he handed the note for Professor McGonagall to the elf, asking him to take it to Hogwarts right away. "And say hello to Winky for me," Harry added as Kreacher snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Harry kept himself busy for the next two hours, washing the breakfast dishes, then settling himself into a chair in the drawing room with the Aurora handbooks and training manuals Kingsley had given him. He'd have to work on his transfiguration skills, he reminded himself, and brush up on his potion's, most especially antidotes. Unless he carried a box of bezoars around with him at all times, he thought with a small sad smile.

The writing desk in the corner caught his eye, reminding him of Moody, Mrs. Weasley and the boggart. The boggart. Again, Harry pulled the small glass bottle out and stared at it lying flat in his palm. What could be taking Kreacher so long?

He was just beginning the chapter titled **ARREST PAPERWORK DO'S AND DON'TS** when the front door creaked open and Moody's voice sounded through the quite house. "Severus Snape?"

"Kreacher did not kill Professor Dumbledore," Harry heard the house elf's voice, quickly followed by a most familiar voice.

"What, in Merlin's name, is that thing still doing here?" said Minerva McGonagall.

"What happened? What was it?" said a somewhat recognizable male voice that Harry could not place.

Tossing his books aside, Harry dashed to the front hall. Kreacher, Professor McGonagall, and Argus Filch stood in the door way. Minerva's hair was covered in the dust of the exploding Dumbledore ghost figure. Filch's mouth hung open as he stared at the place in the rug the figure had risen from; his arms were gripped tightly around a basin.

"Potter," the Headmistress said, her voice tight with restraint. "Why have you not removed that yet?"

"I, ah," Harry quite felt as if he'd forgotten to do his homework. "I don't know how, Professor," he finished sheepishly.

Minerva's anger dissipated, and she sighed resignedly. "No, of course you don't." And with that, she whipped out her wand, gave it an intricate wave and said several long words too quickly for Harry to understand, that resulted with a small poof of dust coming form the spot where the ghostly Dumbledore always emerged. With a satisfied nod, she tucked her wand away again. "There. You will no longer have to deal with that."

"Thank you, professor."

"Yes, thank you, Headmistress. Kreacher did not like the dusty Professor Albus." The elf headed for the kitchen.

Minerva offered Kreacher's withdrawing back a kind smile and turned her attention to the Hogwarts caretaker. "Don't just stand there Filch," and pointed a stern arm down the hall, "take it inside. I spoke with Albus regarding your request," Minerva explained to Harry as she strode down the hall after the caretaker. "And he suggested that you may have more use for the Pensieve here." She pointed toward the kitchen. "In there Filch," she directed then continued her explanation, "I do not… _appreciate_ the Pensieve as much as Albus did." She stopped as they reached the kitchen door and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "In all honesty, Harry," she lowered her voice, "it is the feeling of falling head first from a great height that I do not appreciate the most."

Harry smiled, understanding, and followed her the rest of the way into the kitchen. "I have twice used the Pensieve." Minerva placed her hands on the inside curvature of the Pensieve, Filch having set it down on the kitchen table. "Once with one of my own memories, and once," she glanced to Harry, and he rather thought she looked a bit guilty "with someone else's. However," she continued, her expression sliding into one of secret sharing, "I do not, myself, believe I gained anything from watching my own memory, as it was just the same as when it was inside my head. And," lifting her hands from the Pensieve, she pulled out one of the chairs and sat wearily down, "watching someone else's memory felt intrusive to me, and I would not care to do that again. Unless, we could find someone who had a recollection of the building of the pyramids, or even Hogwarts for that matter. That, I would find most interesting." Kreacher set a cup of tea in front of her, for which she nodded her thanks before taking a sip. Filch, standing in a corner of the kitchen as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to sit at the table, was also offered a steaming mug. "So," Minerva looked at Harry, "Albus would like you to have it, with his complements."

Harry blinked, never having expected to be _given_ the Pensieve; he'd only wanted to use it for an hour or so. "Um. Well, thank you, Professor, and please thank Professor Dumbledore for me. I didn't expect…"

"Your welcome," Minerva saved Harry from trying to come up with anything else to say, and graciously changed the subject. "This is becoming rather a nice home Harry," she glanced around the kitchen.

Harry was grateful for the change in conversation. He thought that perhaps Professor McGonagall was going to ask him why he'd requested time with the Pensieve, and he did not want to share that with anyone just yet, he wanted to see what the memories were first.

Kreacher proudly showed Minerva around the house, explaining all the improvements and cleaning he'd done in the week since the battle. The Headmistress politely made all the appreciative noises and comments, and about an hour later she and Filch headed back to Hogwarts.

Harry decided he'd been patient long enough. Picking up the Pensieve, he requested privacy from Kreacher and moments later the Pensieve was sitting on the dresser in his bedroom, and Harry was uncorking the small glass bottle and spilling out the contents into the Pensieve, they swirled around, expanding, Harry thought, in their new container. Finally! He thought to himself and with a deep breath, plunged his face quickly down into the substance, ignoring thoughts of the last time he had entered someone's memory. The floor tipped beneath his feet, and he was falling….

.

**a/n: TBC Thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

He landed in a bedroom. Harry had been in this bedroom just a few days before, when he'd gone to visit Andromeda and meet Teddy for the first time; this was the bedroom Remus and Tonks shared in her parent's house. a crib was tucked into a corner. Harry leaned over to look into it wondering if Teddy was in there asleep, but then he heard Teddy giggling from down the hall, quickly followed by the recognizable sound of Tonks' laughter. Remus sat on the edge of the unmade bed, forearms on his thighs, hands clasped together between his knees. He smiled toward the closed bedroom door at the sound of his wife and sons joy. "Hello Harry," Remus said, and Harry jumped. No one in any of his visits to the Pensieve had ever addressed him directly, and it was disconcerting. For a moment, Harry felt very intrusive, as if he was _actually_ in the Lupins' bedroom. "I suppose I must be dead." Remus sighed deeply. "Ah well, '_Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste death but once,_' and I Harry, as we both know, I am both," he sighed deeply. Harry's stomach lurched with Grimmauld Place memory. Sinking to the floor, Harry sat cross legged in front of Remus, increasing the illusion that this was really real.

"I wanted to leave this for you, in case I don't get the chance to tell you myself… You were right Harry. Everything you said at Grimmauld Place; I _was_ a coward. I did want to abandon my wife and child, but," Remus' eyes shifted and landed directly in the place Harry was sitting. "I promise you, it was not for adventure or glory. It was…fear. Simply fear of the life I could give them, or," he let out a strangled laugh, "not give them."

"Remus, you're not-" Harry began, forgetting, but Remus was speaking again, and Harry was struck with the thought that he was not actually conversing with his friend.

"…was a cowardly act, and I am ashamed."

"Remus," Tonk's voice came as the bedroom door opened, "are you up?" She came into the room holding a squirming Teddy in her arms. The hair on both of their heads was the exact same shade of bright pink. Harry jumped to his feet and moved to the corner of the room, feeling intrusive. "Take him would you, while I shower. Mum just said I'm beginning to smell like Dung," she kissed Remus lightly on the mouth as she slipped Teddy into his arms. "I think she meant Mundungus, not the other, but I'm going to shower either way." She padded barefoot into the bathroom, slipping off her Weird Sisters tee-shirt just as she closed the door behind her. Harry flushed and looked quickly away.

Remus smiled at the closed bathroom door for a moment and chuckled lightly. "I hope you looked away, Harry." Harry laughed out loud.

Tonks' arrival in the bedroom and in the memory seemed to have broken the tension of the moment, and Harry relaxed enough to notice, for the first time, the sun streaming in through the open window, and the smell of freshly cut grass.

"I want to thank you, Harry," Remus said, and when Harry returned his attention to the man on the bed, he found Remus beaming at his son in his arms. "If it wasn't for you," he nodded slightly to Teddy, "I would have missed this. Would have missed his birth and his first laugh. That is why I asked you to be Teddy's godfather." Remus was silent for a few moments, eyes locked with his son, engaging in a silent exchange.

Both Remus and Teddy were holding so very still, Harry wondered if the memory was over. If it were not for the shower turning on and Tonks' singing drifting through the bathroom door, Harry might have left the Pensieve and missed what came next.

"I wanted to leave you something but I don't have much, and nothing seemed enough." Remus paused, taking his eyes off his son for the first time, lifting them toward the wall. Harry moved purposely in front of Remus, so that it seemed as if Remus was actually looking at him again. "I leave you this next memory, it will, I think, mean more to you than my books or old briefcase. And so I say a proper goodbye to you my friend. Take care of my son for me. Be well, and be happy." A small smile crossed his face. "Mischief managed."

Remus, Teddy and the bedroom faded away, as the new memory faded in, Harry found himself standing in a hallway, between two closed bedroom doors, behind a tall man with light brown hair wearing crisp black robes. The man's hand reached up and knocked on the closed door, but didn't wait for an answer; he turned the knob and went in. Harry followed, slipping in through the door just before it closed.

He found himself in another bedroom; there were two other men in the room, their backs to the door and to Harry, both were wearing midnight blue dress robes, and grappling with each other for a place in front of the small mirror on the wall. "It's _my_ wedding," one of them said, and tried to brush down his untidy black hair. Harry's heart leapt into his throat.

"Yes, but there is a beautiful bridesmaid who has been making eyes at me," said the other man, as he ran his fingers through his curly hair. And Harry couldn't help but laugh even as tears prickled his eyes.

"More like _rolling her eyes_ at you," said the man standing in front of Harry. All four of them laughed. Harry made his way out from behind the back of the light haired man he was standing behind, a much younger Remus Lupin.

James Potter turned around, the brush in his hand falling to his side. "Have you seen Lily?" He asked Remus worriedly. "How is she?" Harry saw that James had a single lily pined to his robes.

"Hasn't run off then?" said Sirius Black, still looking into the mirror, combing the tiny thread of mustache above his lip.

Remus smiled and held up both hands, calming James. "She's fine, James, and yes, she's still here." Remus glanced to Sirius' reflection.

James breathed a sigh of relief. "I know she misses her parents…" There was a knock on the door.

"Boys?" It was a female voice that Harry did not recognize, but was positive did not belong to Lily.

Remus turned and opened the door; a pretty blonde woman in a light bluish-purple dress poked her head in. "'Bout ready then?"

"Well, hello there, Mary," said Sirius, turning from the mirror. Mary did indeed, roll her eyes in response. Remus and James shared a glance and each stifled a laugh.

Sirius wasn't going to give up so easily, he moved closer to Mary and the door. "Save a dance for us then Darlin'?"

She peered into his face and thought a moment. "Only if you shave off that thing you think of as a mustache." Glancing toward James, her tone changed into a lighter one, "Shall I tell Lily she's on?" Sirius seemed stunned by the rejection of what he considered a great sign of masculinity, but grinned happily after a pause.

"I'll tell her," Remus said and clapped James on the back. "See you soon." Mary left the open doorway and headed downstairs. Sirius moved to follow her, but Remus grabbed him by the elbow. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Sirius gave him a quizzical look and Remus tilted his head toward James. "Take the groom with you."

"Have the ring then?" Sirius asked, looking toward James, and James padded his pockets anxiously as they headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Harry and Remus followed.

For the first time since entering the memory, Harry took a look around his surroundings. He and Remus were on a landing at the top of a grand staircase lined with portraits of people Harry had seen once, a very long time ago reflected back at him from the Mirror of Erised. This must be the Potter family home, where James grew up, and where Sirius ran away to. It reminded Harry a bit of Malfoy Manor in its scale, but the Potter home was brighter, more sunlight streamed through several large windows on the ground floor, either side of the front door. The portraits of James' family smiled and clapped at their posterity as James tipped lightly down the stairs, taking two at a time. James tilted an invisible hat to the portraits and bowed deeply.

Remus and Harry watched from the landing as Sirius stopped at the foot of the stairs where Mary was waiting and tried again to waggle the promise of a dance out of her. James grabbed him by the elbow and drug him into another room through a large archway. Mary looked up to Remus and shook her head exasperatedly with a giggle.

Remus turned to the closed bedroom door opposite the room they had just left and knocked. "Come in," said Lily.

Harry would have rushed past Remus if he'd been able, but waited the seconds it took Remus to turn the knob and open the door.

She was sitting at a small dressing table, twisting a lock of her red hair around one finger. She smiled brightly at Remus' reflected appearance in her mirror and stood to face him.

Harry rushed over to her, crossing the room with a few steps and simply stared. Her eyes were the familiar green he saw in the mirror, but there was something so electric about them today, and she was actually glowing. He could tell, she was utterly happy.

Her dress was simple, bright white and strapless, the bottom so full it gathered in a puddle at her feet. Her hair was in a complicated pile a top her head; save for that one piece that would have lain against her neck if she wasn't still weaving it around her finger.

"Lily, you're…" Remus swallowed "You're beautiful."

She blushed slightly and flounced the skirt of her dress. "You don't think it's too much?"

Remus shook his head, as if he no longer trusted his voice. Lily grinned sheepishly. "I wanted to thank you Remus, for agreeing to walk me down the isle," tears leapt into her voice, and she placed her hand at the bottom of her throat as if she could hold them at bay. "I miss my parents." Aunt Petunia had spoken of her parents as little as she had spoken of James and Lily, and with just as much restraint. Harry had known his Evans grandparents were dead, and had always assumed it had happened before James and Lily died, but had never received an answer when he'd asked his aunt for details.

"Think nothing of it," Remus said, tears filling his eyes, and Harry wondered what had happened to Lupin's parents. "It's my great pleasure. Hey now," he moved to Lily, grabbed a handkerchief from the dressing table and dabbed at her eyes. "No more of that, this is a happy day."

Lily reached up and grasped the back of Remus' hand, leaving it there for a moment before she took the handkerchief and dabbed his eyes for him. They both smiled at the moment.

"Shall we go then?" Remus said and crooked his elbow for her to take. Lily nodded, sniffled once, dropped the handkerchief back on to the dressing table and picked up her bouquet. It was made up of several different kinds and colors of wild flowers, a single petunia sat prominently in the middle.

Lily took Remus' offered arm, wrapping her fingers around his. "Yes, let's," excitement replaced the tears in her voice.

Harry followed them out of the bedroom door and down the stairs, excitement flowing through him. The older Remus had been right; this was the best thing he could have left Harry.

Mary was still at the bottom of the stairs, and when she saw them emerge from the bedroom, she pulled her wand out and wafted it though the air. Music sounded throughout the house. It was something classical, with a piano and a couple of violins, Harry thought. Mary rushed over to stand next to the archway James and Sirius had walked through moments ago, and peeked around the corner into the other room.

"I've been told," Remus said in a voice so quiet, Harry had to lean in to hear, "That it's muggle custom to ask the bride if she is sure she wants to marry the groom." Lily glanced up at him, incredulous. "But," he continued with a grin, "I can see that that would be a ridiculous question to ask you." Lily rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand. Remus squeezed back.

They'd reached the bottom of the staircase and Lily nodded to Mary. With a deep breath, Mary straightened her shoulders and began her walk down the isle.

Harry hurried past Remus and his mother and into the room, rushing down the isle past Mary to stand next to James and Sirius. He'd always been told it had been a small wedding, but Harry was surprised at just how few people there were in attendance. With all the people he had met over the last seven years, so many had told him what wonderful people his parents were, that Harry expected the drawing room to be full of attendees. But only a handful sat in the chairs.

Professor Dumbledore was there, his beard just as white, but not as long. And Professor McGonagall sat next to him, looking exactly the same, but a bit younger, and less stern in this festive setting. As Harry watched, she wiped away a tear, and Dumbledore smiled at her, patting her hand. Peter Pettigrew was there as well, sitting by himself, two seats away from Dumbledore. Harry looked away, not wanting to lose the moment in his hatred of the man who had betrayed his family. On the other side of McGonagall sat a man and woman Harry recognized, but had to plough his brain to recall their names. It was her round face that finally flicked the switch; they were Frank and Alice Longbottom, looking very happy. Harry saw wedding rings on both their fingers as Frank lifted the back of Alice's hand up to his lips. A woman with short dark brown hair whom Harry did not recognize sat on Alice's other side.

Sirius leaned over to whisper something in James' ear and Harry turned just in time to see Remus and Lily pass through the archway. James seemed to stop breathing when Lily appeared. James and Lily stared at each other as she slowly waked toward him, both smiling widely, and Harry could see the love they shared in their eyes. It made him think of Ginny.

With a kiss to Lily's check, Remus removed her hand from his arm, handed it to James and took his place behind Sirius.

Harry was not at all surprised to see the small tufty-haired officiating wizard. He'd begun to think this wizard was probably as old as Dumbledore and had presided over every wizard wedding and funeral for at least the last hundred years. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we gather here together today to celebrate the union of two souls…"

As he continued, Harry looked around. James and Lily were beaming at each other. "These two souls have found each other…" Sirius stole a quick covert glance to Mary, who flushed slightly and glanced to the floor under his gaze. Remus stood behind Sirius, his attention on James and Lily, a slight bitter sweet smile on his face. "Do you, James take Lily…" Frank and Alice held hands tightly, glancing at each other as the officiating wizard spoke vows of love and devotion. Minerva and Dumbledore each looked as if they were fighting a losing battle against happy tears. "Do you, Lily take James…" Pettigrew, thinking that no eyes were on him, let his expression fall into one of guilt and trepidation. "Let these rings bare witness of your never ending devotion," Harry looked over just as James slipped a gold band onto Lily's finger. "And so I declare you bonded for life," finished the officiating wizard, and the room broke into applause as the new husband and wife kissed.

James turned to Sirius and Remus and threw an arm around each of them. Lily turned to Mary and hugged her. The attendees all stood and gathered around the newlyweds, offering congratulations. All but Pettigrew.

Peter seemed to realize his absence from the group might raise suspicions, so he slowly made his way up to the gathered group. James held out a hand for Peter, and after a slight hesitation, Peter reached for it, just as Sirius slapped James on the back, saying "It's about bloody time, mate!" Peter was able to pull his hand away with no one noticing.

Sirius waved his wand and the chairs disappeared, replaced by a dance floor. The music became a bit louder and more contemporary as Remus took out his wand and wafted it about the ceiling. Under Mary's magic, trays of hors d'oeuvre's and glasses of wine and bottles of butterbeer drifted themselves about the room as people chatted and laughed heartily.

James and Lily took to the dance floor. Lily holding up the skirt of her dress as James twirled her about, both of them laughing with abandon. Sirius allowed them a few minutes before catching Mary's eye and wagging a finger at her. Remus approached the woman with short brown hair, he called her Ariella, and she readily held out her hand to him, eager to dance. Alice and Frank followed. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall clasped hands and joined them all on the dance floor.

Harry watched in amazement. He had never seen any of these people so happy. Even those he had known in life, the days he had known them, there had always been the cloud of worry hanging over them. But on this day, even though disappearances and deaths continued, and the first war loomed over them, this one day, they let it go and were joyous in each other. Harry's soul surged with a tremendous amount of love.

Lily leaned over and whispered in James' ear; a moment later they moved off the dance floor and joined Pettigrew. The small man seemed to shrink a bit at their approach, but recovered enough to hold a conversation with them. Harry joined the trio. "…So good of you to come," Lily said and hugged Peter quickly.

"Not even Death Eaters could have kept me away," Peter said and gave a short grunt of laughter.

Lily glanced at James who seemed to shrug off the odd comment and clapped Peter on the back. "Wouldn't have been the same without you Wormtail."

"Am I ever to hear the origin of those unusual nicknames of yours?" Harry turned at the familiar voice. Professor Dumbledore joined them, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Um," James uttered hesitantly, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Perhaps someday," he recovered and shot Peter a quick sly smile. "But not today, Albus. Today is the day for only one name," he paused, making sure he had everyone's attention. "Lily _Potter!_" And Lily blushed slightly at the sound of her new name and she reached up and ran her fingers through James' untidy hair.

Dumbledore laughed and cheered along with everyone else in the room who had only heard James shouting Lily's name, newly merged with his own. Taking two glasses of wine from a hovering tray, Dumbledore handed them to the bride and groom before taking one for himself and raising it into the air. "To Lily and James Potter."

Everyone repeated the toast and drank. Pettigrew took advantage of the renewed chatting to make a hasty excuse and slip out the door. Harry watched Dumbledore's gaze follow the short man out through the front door, concentration dampering his twinkling eyes.

An old fashioned camera began to float around the room under Remus' magic, taking pictures of everyone. Harry watched astounded as his parents and Sirius posed for the photograph that would eventually end up in the photo album Hagrid gave him at the end of his first year. As much time as he had spent in other peoples memories, that moment was very weird.

"Cake!" Ariella, the woman with short brown hair called out, "Time to cut the cake!" She waved her wand and out from the kitchen floated a three tiered cake to oohs and aahs. It was a very pretty cake, Harry thought as he and everyone else moved toward the table it landed on. White icing and an elegant filigree pattern in a soft sky blue. Lily and James held the same knife and made the first cut. "Don't forget to keep the top tier, Lily, for your first anniversary!" reminded Ariella. Harry did the quick calculation in his head, thinking they would be in hiding by this time next year and wondered if the cake had made it to the Godrics Hollow home.

The small party continued for another hour, everyone chatting and dancing in turn. Sirius took Lily's hand in his and led her to the dance floor. Not long after, Dumbledore cut in, dancing with Lily, her laughter ringing through the room. James danced with Alice Longbottom, Frank with Professor McGonagall, and Remus and Sirius had seconds of the cake.

Professor's McGonagall and Dumbledore said their good byes when the music grew even louder under Sirius' wand. Frank and Alice left not long after, Alice carrying two pieces of wrapped up cake. James and Lily were on the dance floor, her arms around his neck, as James sung very softly to her. Harry watched them from a few feet away and wondered about the life he might have had if their love had been a part of it.

Ariella whispered in Remus' ear and he nodded, grabbing Sirius by the arm, murmuring that it was time for them to leave as well. Harry's heart sank. If Remus was leaving, then the memory would soon be over. Sirius grabbed Mary around her waist and pulled her next to him. The five of them watched Lily and James dancing until the end of the song.

"Prongs," Sirius said as the last few notes died away. "We'll be leaving now too." They said their goodbyes with many hugs, handshakes and claps on the back. Lily made sure the departing women took cake with them as well, and they all walked slowly to the door. Harry, knowing time was running out, stared at his parents. They were so much in love, and so very happy, it was almost offensive to think of what was headed their way. He stood next to his mother, staring at her as she quickly hugged Remus one more time at the door. His only solace was that he could come back here whenever he wanted, as many times as he wanted. His heart began to pound as the door opened behind him, and he heard the sounds of the women, Sirius and Remus walk though it. As the door clicked shut, the memory faded and Harry felt himself being pulled up and out of the Pensieve.

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**a/n: Credit where credit is due, the Shakespeare quote is from _Julius Caesar_. **

** Thank you for reading, I'd really love to know what you think. **


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